


Let's Be More Than This

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Series: Femslash Feb 2019 [2]
Category: Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February 2019, Fluff, Getting Together, Short & Sweet, this is just kate's internal bi monologue bless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: Kate Bishop is not an easily frightened woman.Day Two: Crush





	Let's Be More Than This

**Author's Note:**

> i literally only write amerikate for femslash feb for some reason but i love them so! here we are, keeping the tradition going
> 
> title from paramore's crushcrushcrush bc i made myself cackle w the layers of pun of all of this

The can is sweat-slick, pulled directly from a cooler whose ice is already melting in the midday heat.

Kate holds it in her calloused palm, deft archer's fingers keeping it from hitting the ground when the droplets all congregate to work against her. Despite that hard work, all done to keep it in working order to get it back the way she just came, she's stuck motionless, her leisurely slip-ons planted firmly in the swaying grass.

Lucky looks up at her, his face bathed in innocent concern, big brown eyes unsure of what to do or where to go next. He's waiting for her, and she's stalled.

A few yards away, America is sat upon the tattered blanket that Kate swiped from Clint's apartment that morning. Her hair is loose down one toned shoulder, while the other side is pulled flat against her head, exposing those wire star earrings she wears for special occasions.

It's ridiculous, but Kate sees those earrings, and she can't move. 

_You're better than this, Kate,_ she tries to convince herself, but she can't get the air compressor in the back of her mind to wind up and smack some inflation into her ego. Can't get her heart to stop hammering. Can't feel anything other than the burning aluminum of the can in her hand.

Lucky, for his part, waits a few moments before he nudges at her hand, cold nose snuffling over bruised knuckles. She startles, eyes darting around to see if, in the middle of the crowd of hundreds of people all gathered same as she with their precious people and their worn blankets, she's in someone's way. But there's no one even remotely close to her. Strangely enough, she wishes there was.

Kate Bishop is not an easily frightened woman. Hell, even now, as she stares down fear, she wouldn't even say she was frightened. More like…hesitant. 

Hesitant not because of insidious doubt, not because she didn't want to be there, hesitant because she' worried that maybe, just maybe, she wants to be there too much.

It had taken Kate Bishop twenty-two years to realize that maybe she wasn't as straight as she'd thought she was, and another year and a few pocket change months to admit that maybe there was a reason for that specific realization at this time in her life. 

And that reason may currently be stretched out on a hideous purple blanket, long legs glowing in the summer sun, head tapping almost imperceptibly to the beat of the opening act, with wire star earrings swaying in her ears.

Kate had given herself two weeks of being doe-eyed and a little gone on America. A streamlined high school infatuation that once she got to the end of it, she had to make a choice.

Somehow, it was easier making herself choose between asking her out or letting time run try to its course than she'd thought it would be. 

Which meant going out of her way to get two tickets to an outdoor concert for a band that she'd been fond of when she was a kid, and then dressing it up as having to introduce America to them because it was a cornerstone or whatever- honestly, she hadn't paid much attention to what she'd said in that moment. She'd simply watched America's face give way to that leniency that it seemed to have only for her, found the shape of the words she was saying to be in her favor, and then darted off on some half-cocked excuse about having to take Clint to the vet. Not her finest moment.

But it certainly wasn't her worst either because here they were, had walked in together, and if Kate could just get her ass in gear, they'd leave Together.

Though she doesn't ever acknowledge it, had a perfect attendance record on not talking about it, she's prone to obsessions with perfection. She thinks that maybe they all are, that all the young heroes have these complexes from being constantly bombarded with things that they can't control from the moment they're birthed or manifested or realize that they're a really good shot with a bow and arrrow.

The need to micromanage the smallest parts of her life, it's got to be in her blood. From the way that she hates trick arrows for the fact that they are made from things unpredictable, to the fact that she leaves the house every morning at 8am on the dot to run with Lucky because she needs time to run in which her life isn't at stake.

So maybe, just maybe, the need for this afternoon to go well, maybe that was something she should have known would come from her. Should have accounted for so she wouldn't freeze with a steadily melting orange soda can in her hand, staring dumbly at America Chavez, who looks like she's singing along to a band that she claimed she'd never even heard of.

Lucky nudges at her hand again, a soft insistence. She's imagined that, if she should ever be so lucky, and he speaks, that his voice will be age weathered, though not life weathered. That's a distinction she has to make because she, she is life weathered, she is twenty-three and has looked horror in the eye, and if she applies that concept to Lucky his voice in her head will mingle with her subconscious and she'll never get anything done again in life. 

So he looks at her with his aged eyes, devoid of judgement, but full of this…this something that kickstarts her muscles and sends her walking much too fast, much too insistent, much too like her mind has a plan that it won't let her in on.

Her shadows casts over America before she does, causing the brunette to look up with that small smirk on her mouth that has always left Kate a little breathless, but she didn't realize why until a few months ago. And god, she wants to kiss the smugness right off of America Chavez's face.

"Thought you bailed," she joked, her words a nipping payfulness that Kate has always found it so easy to fall into. 

"Not a chance," she replied, handing the can to her before swiping her palms off on her shorts, pretending it's just from the metallic sweat.

America looks down at the can, something odd passing over her face before she turns on the most magnificent grin that Kate has ever seen. And that, that is when she actually pays attention to the brand name.

It feels like she's just given a piece of her heart to her, and as she sits back down, she prays that America never gives it back. 

Later, as they sing their throats raw and their lips dry. And when America slides her arm around Kate's hips, presses the heat of her palm to the sliver of skin between the top of her shorts and the bottom of her cropped shirt, she doesn't think she'll have to worry about getting any of her heart back.

Even later, when they stumble together, trying and failing to walk in synch as Lucky trots just ahead of them, when Kate finally, finally gets to find out what the warmth of their mouths is like together, she knows it for certain.

**Author's Note:**

> i was vibrating out of my skin to write this 1.2k long pun. literally i wrote this whole thing for the pun of it being a can of crush gkdjfks
> 
> but anyway im on tumblr @wlwshehulk !!


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